Dying Roses
by Sianatra
Summary: Warning: Mockingjay spoilers! There are screams. They reverberate in the air all around me. The streets of the once shining Capitol are littered with unmoving bodies, most dead, but some still alive, clinging to life by threads. -A tribute to poor Prim.-


**Waning: Major Mockingjay spoilers, so don't read ahead if you haven't read the book yet!**

There are screams.

They reverberate in the air all around me. The streets of the once shining Capitol are littered with unmoving bodies, most dead, but some still alive, clinging to life by threads.

Blood is everywhere. Its scarlet hue has stained the snow to such a point that it is no longer white, but red. Red like the bomb fires that destroyed my home, District 12. Red like my sister Katniss, the fire of the rebellion, the Mockingjay. Red like my hands, stained from giving much-needed medical attention to countless people.

Red. The color of war.

The rest of the rebel medics and I are a few blocks away from President Snow's mansion, treating any poor soul who stumbles into our path. I've seen so many gruesome things today, but still, I persevere. The gaping hole where a woman's left eye used to be does not hinder me, nor do the bloody remains of what used to be a man's legs.

I'm still fighting.

And I'm not about to give up just yet.

I'm doing the best I can to help everyone. A bandage here, a word of comfort there. Perhaps a warm, reassuring smile to help someone through the pain. However, I know that there will never be any true relief for these poor people. At least not while the war continues to rage.

A light tap on my shoulder pulls me out of my reverie. I look up, startled, only to see the face of a very grim looking Ember staring back down at me.

Ember is 14 years old, about my age, with short, brutally chopped black hair, a large physique, and bright blue eyes that seem to be perpetually sad. She's from 13, and though we haven't had much time together, we've developed something of a friendship. A link, perhaps. We've seen so many dreadful things, faced so many crowds of bloodied people. It would be enough to unite just about anyone.

"They say there's an injured man the next block over," she says, her voice surprisingly soft for someone so large. "Do you want to come with me and help?"

I smile warmly. "Of course. Just wait one second, I have to get my jacket."

I walk quickly to the temporary medical tent and snag my jacket off the back of a chair. With a relieved sigh, I snuggle into its folds and inhale the warm, crisp scent of the material. It smells comforting, dependable, reassuring – all the things a jacket should smell like. I snatch a medical kit on the way out of the tent and make my way back to Ember, who's standing on the corner of the street, staring at the ground. She looks up and smiles. "Let's go."

I nod and start to take a step, but before I can even put my foot on the ground, are several loud bangs. More screaming starts, but this time they are not the screams of adults, but instead, children. My head shoots over to where the spine-chilling shrieks are coming from. With a little gasp of horror, I see the snow-covered lawn of President Snow's mansion begin to turn crimson as the blood starts flowing…

Ember and I exchange looks, and then, as if by some unspoken agreement, we start running. My feet pound down upon the stone streets. The only thing that keeps running through my head is, _Why them?_

Panting and breathless, I make it to the mansion, converging with other members of the rebel medic team who have also swarmed in to help. Ember and I are jostled along through the barrier. The minute I am inside, my eyes are met by a terrible sight: Children lie on the ground, missing body parts; their faces are shocked, pained, incredulous, as if it hasn't quite sunk in yet that they are hurt.

I immediately rush to a young girl with no right hand. Hastily, I remove my jacket and toss it around her limp form, tucking it in so that she won't chill. I open my kit and get to work. I pull out a roll of gauze, unwind it, and wrap it around the length of her bloodied stub. By now, the realization of what happened dawns upon her. Tears are streaming down her face and her body is being raked by miserable, agonized sobs. For a moment, I press her close to my chest in a soothing embrace.

"Everything will be okay," I whisper in her ear, rocking her gently. "I'm going to take care of you."

She sniffs piteously and wipes at her tears with the hand she still has left.

Suddenly, I hear something. A voice.

_"Prim! Prim! Prim!"_

Someone is shouting my name.

I look around, but I don't see anyone familiar except for Ember, but she's busy treating a young boy right now, and her back is to me.

_"PRIM!"_

The voice again, this time louder. My heart leaps with joy because all of a sudden, I realize who is calling me.

My sister.

I stand up and finally manage to locate where she is. She's sprinting towards me at full speed, waving her arms around frantically. There's a crazed gleam in her eye as she screams my name.

"Katniss," I whisper happily.

I see pure horror cross her face.

And then my world is on fire.

* * *

***sniff, sniff* My poor little Prim. Why, why, WHY did she have to die?**

**Please review if you liked it; reviews never fail to make my day!**


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